Blog Stop and Giveaway: In the Red by Selah Janel

PublishedNovember 8, 2012

Today I have an excellent guest post from author Selah Janel and an excerpt from her novel In the Red. Enjoy the post, and I’ll see you at the end for your chance to win an e-book copy! And now, I’ll turn over the floor to Selah Janel . . .

As a writer, it’s the characters that really make a story for me. I’m always intrigued by different types of people (and creatures, fairies, vampires, and other various things), so I love exploring that in my writing. Usually I’m game with working with whatever my warped imagination throws my way, because I enjoy trying to find an “in” with every character. Either I write them because I find them really interesting because of what they are, or because I find some way to empathize or sympathize with them.

However, with In the Red I was a little nervous to work with a character type that I’d avoided so far, but couldn’t avoid any longer. I’ve never been a fan of demon-centric plots, although for me this usually refers to the horror genre. I can read demons in urban fantasy, but it still hasn’t been my favorite thing in the world. I don’t know what it is, but the concept just bugs me, probably because concepts like possession and temptation affect us at a very primal and base level. Now take those nerves and imagine how it felt for me to realize that if I was going to flesh out a short story into a full novel, I was going to have to not only deal with demons, but a full-fledged devil-type character. What seemed like a fun little idea before now had me scratching my head and wondering what to do.

I didn’t want to make him just another sleazy manager, though there is a little of that there. I also didn’t want to make him an all-out boogeyman-type devil. Neither of those types of characters are very accessible for me. They’re caricatures and I wanted a full character. Plus, I wanted a character that could be frightening, but also tempting in his own right. It had to be someone that I could actually write. It took a few attempts and a little revising, but slowly Jack Scratch came fully into being. I wanted a character that was confident and competent enough that Jeremiah would never question him until it was too late. I wanted someone who could be the best help you could ever find or the biggest threat you could imagine. Someone who not only was adept at using force, but who knew business, knew marketing, and was somehow everywhere at once. He had to be inescapable, and a sense of humor wouldn’t go amiss, either. For me, Jack isn’t quite likeable, but he isn’t unlikeable, either. I definitely got a chuckle out of some of his dialogue, and I kind of like that he could either be seen as attractive or just a few shades from attractive. He’s very dangerous because he has a hand in everything. He’s blunt, yet he doesn’t give the most important things away.

He also doesn’t take failure easily, but he goes about his retribution in a somewhat unique way. Jack likes the cat and mouse game with Jeremiah. Jack’s content to stalk him, slowly driving him mad, making him question his reality until he’s ready to have it out. His qualities show up even if he isn’t directly around during those moments.

What fascinates me is that I also got a chance to see Jack frustrated. Not angry, not vengeful (although those emotions show up, too), but frustrated. I slowly got the sense that he wasn’t just doing things to cause trouble (though he enjoys that), but that he had a mission. He had an ulterior motive. He had a desire of his own, and one that I can’t entirely fault him for. When I slowly discovered that, it drove home just how easy it is to understand evil, and how terrifying of a character that makes him.

There are a few scenes that stand out as my favorites. His initial meeting with Jeremiah was so easy to write. Jack just showed up and everything poured itself onto the page. The scene (of which the excerpt is a part) where Jack gives Jeremiah the boots…that still says a lot about the first half of the book for me. It’s a pivotal moment of transformation for Jeremiah, and it’s where you know that he’s in deep. You can feel happy that he’s getting what he wants, yet he’s also transforming into something that isn’t quite himself, and Jack is there to share that moment with him and revel in it.

There are points where he’s even affected by the boots, and things start to get beyond his control. And then there is the bit I mentioned earlier, where you get to see him on his home turf, at the height of his powers, and see what really drives him. That made me quietly squirm, and it reminded me that he wasn’t just a metaphorical character. He wasn’t just a callous, cruel businessman or a clever, humorous character with a dark edge. Jack Scratch is evil, and when I fully realized that, I knew I had finally worked past my nerves and had a version of the devil character that would work for the book and for me, as well. He may make me uncomfortable, and I don’t exactly like him, but that’s just proof that as a character he’s done what he’s supposed to do.

Live like a rock star.

Dance ‘til you die.

Are you in?

What kind of a rock star lives in a small town in the middle of nowhere and plays at weddings and funerals? Then Jack Scratch comes into his life, ready to represent him and launch him to stardom. Jack can give him everything: a new band, a new name, a new life, a new look, and new boots…although they aren’t exactly new. They once belonged to The One, a rocker so legendary and so mysterious that it’s urban legend that he used black magic to gain success. But what does Jeremiah care about urban legend? And it’s probably just coincidence that the shoes make him dance better than anyone, even if it doesn’t always feel like he’s controlling his movements. It’s no big deal that he plunges into a world of excess and decadence as soon as he puts the shoes on his feet, right?

But what happens when they refuse to come off?

Excerpt

They’re mine. I’m really holding them, Jeremiah realized. I’m holding history that isn’t supposed to exist. When The One took the stage, any competition turned tail and ran. It was said that the one time the singer revealed what he looked like the crowds were moved to tears by his beauty and sophistication, and tore each other apart because they couldn’t get to him. Some said it was a conspiracy that complete copies of his songs didn’t exist because the music was too potent to release to the public. There were people who still worshipped the mystery, the music, the outfits, and the boots.

And now those people would come to him.

“Go on. Try them on,” Jack encouraged. Jeremiah nodded and carefully put the platforms on the floor. Shaking with nerves, the youth sat and guided his feet into the cherry red sheaths. Electricity crackled along his instep and through his toes. He tugged the vinyl up over his calf and gasped. Jeremiah was overtaken by a sudden burn, a sudden ant-crawling of power that worked its way through his skin and into his very soul.

“What the—” he choked. The plastic spasmed, tightened around his foot, and then relaxed. The left boot stretched itself a little higher up his calf and extended its sole and heel a little more to adapt to his needs. Jeremiah thought he had imagined it, but the right boot immediately followed suit. The matching sets of the laces squirmed and rippled, settling into a slightly different pattern than when they were taken out of their box. A quick look around proved that while everyone in the room was looking, Jack was the only other person that actually saw. “Did they just…?” Jeremiah couldn’t bring himself to say something so bizarre. He barely managed to hold back a cry when a thousand tiny needle teeth nibbled his skin from toes to knees. A tingling sensation spread under his skin and Jeremiah was filled with a rush of violent confidence that almost made him swoon.

“Good. They fit,” Jack said. Only his tiny, mysteriously cruel little smile hinted that he was aware of the boots’ strange behavior.

The longer Jeremiah looked at himself the more he realized that he could do no wrong. My life just changed. With these on my feet, my past is gone. I’m going to be better than I ever thought possible.

All around him the yes-men and hangers-on gaped.

“You look so good!” the store footman practically swooned. His vinyl and lace frock coat danced under the fluttering movements of his hands. His sharp, pale face flushed with excitement underneath the stylized Victorian wig.

“I’m gonna cry you look so good!” the blonde assistant squealed, gripping Jack’s knee as if she’d keel over if she didn’t have it there to support her. “It’s like I’m witnessing history!”

The faces that surround him were positively thunderstruck and at his mercy. The camera kept right on clicking. Jeremiah got to his feet and struck a few more ambitious poses, dropping into a low crouch before kicking a leg up in an insane bastardization of a round kick. It didn’t matter that he’d grown up looking like every other average guy in Middle America. It didn’t matter that he’d been more accustomed to cotton T-shirts and washed-out blue jeans than the clothes Jack had him wearing. The overall look wasn’t complete, but the boots pulled everything together. The added height evened out his lanky proportions. In some unlikely way the platforms made his stubble-sporting, angular face look downright exotic. His eyes blazed liquid brown heat and his dishwater hair almost glowed under the dressing room lights.

Jeremiah sashayed around the tiny space and leapt onto the low podium at the room’s center, full of a burning drive to do something. He wanted to sing. He wanted to rock. He wanted to dance, and he’d never had that sort of urge before in his life. Every school dance he’d ever gone to had involved him either playing in the band or drinking contraband beverages with his friends outside the building. “Guess I’m a natural!” he laughed. He knew he was lying, Jack knew he was lying, but there was no reason for anyone else to know the truth. Why bother with the truth when the image in the mirror was so much better?

He had expected his balance to be shaky in the tall platforms, but it was like the boots were built for him. He hadn’t thought to check the size. Maybe The One wasn’t the original owner; maybe they conformed to whoever wore them. Jeremiah’s face glowed when he looked at his mirror image. His reflection looked as giddy and ecstatic as he felt. Why do I care what they are? If they work, they work! His eyes dropped to the new footwear. He was just able to see the tiny, warped image of his face in the shiny toes. Everything’s going to be amazing from now on. As he admired his distorted image via his feet, all of his hang-ups and personality drained out of him. Who needs a personality with boots like these?

Jack Scratch watched his protégé glided round the room, that same tiny, dangerous smile just barely curling his full mouth. “Just think. What you have on represents everything that you want to be,” he coached. His words drilled through the rocker’s ears and hardwired themselves into the deepest parts of Jeremiah’s heart and soul. “They’re everything you want on your side. These boots are temptation and chaos, just like you. I’ve got it,” he declared. “I’ve got your name.”

“Give it to me,” a raspy voice in front of the mirror breathed.

“Forget Jeremiah Kensington: folk singer, blue jean rocker, country boy, small town loser,” Jack breathed, his giant hands fervently patting down his front until he found which jacket pocket his cigarettes were hidden in. It was amazing that he didn’t gouge himself in the chest given the sharpened tip of the massive silver ring that enveloped his right forefinger. The manager leaned back against the sofa and lit up, never once taking his eyes off his new golden boy and meal ticket. “From now on you are J.K. Asmodeus, rock star and corrupter of the masses.” A thin plume of smoke stretched up to frame his intense expression.

J.K. looked from Jack to the man in the mirror, saw how the red glitter of the boots was echoed in his eyes. “Yes.”

The two ignored the gasps and commentary around them as everyone texted photos and alerted the necessary paparazzi. The pair shared a slow smile as Jack inhaled another draw of nicotine. “It’s time to sign,” he murmured. The smoke crept in front of his face and turned his pleased expression into something that bordered on animalistic. He removed the top sheet of the stack he’d been examining and held it out to the younger man.

I should wait and consult a lawyer. I should take my time. These things need to be done with care, a distant echo of a Midwestern conscience chided. J.K. ignored it, grinned back at his manager, and reached for the fountain pen the manager handed him. His expression was almost as malevolent as Jack’s, though there were still traces of wholesomeness that had yet to drain away. “Let’s do it.”

Author Bio

Selah Janel has been blessed with a giant imagination since she was little and convinced that fairies lived in the nearby state park or vampires hid in the abandoned barns outside of town. Her appreciation for a good story was enhanced by a love of reading, the many talented storytellers that surrounded her, and a healthy curiosity for everything. A talent for warping everything she learned didn’t hurt, either. She gravitates to writing fantasy and horror, but can be convinced to pursue any genre if the idea is good enough. Often her stories feature the unknown creeping into the “real” world and she loves to find the magical in the mundane.

She has four e-books with No Boundaries Press, including the historical vampire story ‘Mooner’ and the contemporary short ‘The Other Man’. Her work has also been included in ‘The MacGuffin’, ‘The Realm Beyond’, ‘Stories for Children Magazine’, and the upcoming Wicked East Press anthology ‘Bedtime Stories for Girls’. She likes her music to rock, her vampires lethal, her fairies to play mind games, and her princesses to hold their own.

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